It's Sabbath, and I'm working the night shift in pediatrics. Jason had just given me report and left, and I was sitting down at the desk to write a patient in the register (we keep track in a book of who comes in, what their illness is, and whether they get better or not). All of a sudden, I hear wailing, loud, unchecked wailing. Immediately, I knew that a baby had died. I ran around the corner from the desk into the ward, and I saw a crowd of people gathering around a bed and weeping.
Sure enough, there was an 18 month old baby lying breathless in its mother's arms. I felt to make sure that there was no pulse and no respirations, and as I raised my eyes, I saw the mother's face-- eyes red, tears just streaming down her face-- and something in me just broke. I cried silently as I took out the baby's IV while the mother held her baby's eyes closed. She was a baby I had admitted in the emergency room yesterday, and when I saw her, I knew that they had waited too long, that she probably wouldn't make it. She was so malnourished, and I could see in her eyes that she was just tired of fighting.
As I left the ward, the family carried the baby out, and I listened as the wailing got more distant. I sat at the desk and cried a little longer, not sure why it bothered me so much. Two of the nurses I'm working with tonight had come in to hear what all the wailing was about, and they had watched me take the IV out. Once I was finished they left and went outside. I saw them not five minutes later, sitting outside on a bench talking and laughing with some other people, and I'm not sure why, but it just made me feel so upset.
I hate that when someone dies, everyone here just goes on about whatever they were doing before as if nothing had ever happened. Maybe it's just because they're so used to death. I don't know, but it just upsets me. It feels like a life should be worth more notice than that. It seems like that baby deserved more than just a passing glance and a moment of silence. And at the same time, I know that it's not good to dwell in the past, and no amount of grieving or hours of silence will bring that baby back. In the end, it's probably better that she died; she was tired of fighting, and now she can rest. But I just can't shake the feeling that a life should be worth more notice than that.
Post Note: Once again, I can't find the verse I want. I know that the Bible says that we should not mourn like those who have no hope. And like I said, it's probably better that the baby died for her own sake; but I know that her mother is hurting, and that is why I was so upset that life just moved on with no notice of her pain.
Rejoice with those who rejoice, and weep with those who weep. Romans 12:15
The Spirit of the Lord God is upon me. Because the Lord has anointed me to bring good news to the afflicted; he has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim liberty to captives, and freedom to prisoners... to comfort all who mourn, to grant those who mourn in Zion, giving them a garland instead of ashes, the oil of gladness instead of mourning, the mantle of praise instead of a spirit of fainting. Isaiah 61:1-3
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1 comment:
That's true. The difference in reaction seems to be due to a distance in connection. I agree with you, that we need to mourn with those who mourn. But also, I think you had a special relationship with that family since you were the one who admitted the child, but with the others, they likely hadn't worked with her and gotten that connection, or saw what you saw--with the mother crying. Thus, the death affected you more. It's like when we're at church and we hear that someone has died, but oftentimes we don't know who it was, so we forget about it pretty quickly. Perhaps it shouldn't be that way. Perhaps we should pray that God will change our hearts. I don't know. That's an interesting question.
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